


Bruise

by antagonists



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a small toast, Ryouma grins again even as his eyes are serious. Very conversationally, lips hovering above his wineglass, he mentions: “You have a bruise on your jaw.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruise

**Author's Note:**

> look, embarrassed and blushing saizou is Very Important and i just wanted ryouma with a gun ok

*

 

 

Night fog is a soft murmur against his skin. In the distance, lamps shine brightly, peering through the thick white with their glowing amber eyes. On the ground, opaque shadows move back and forth, unrelenting. Saizou sighs, softly enough that he doesn’t make noise, and leans back to rest his head against cool stone. His headpiece crackles with brief static, and his brother quietly recites the mappings of the corridors and the coordinates he’ll need.

 

_Four reds on the first floor and three around the stairs, seven surrounding the target in the southeast wing. No greens. We’ll jam the signal and shut power off as soon as you go in._

 

Security is tight. As expected, he supposes. In his earlier missions, he’d slit the throat of every guard or witness he’d passed, but Saizou’s been given new rules since then: only kill the target, only neutralize others in an emergency. It’s honestly a bit vexing to hold back since he has a habit of getting carried away, but he’s never been one to disobey orders.

 

He steps around the shrubbery with great care and stalks closer to the building. The shadows continue to pace back and forth as if to keep time for the deepening blackness in the sky, their dark outlines like ghosts against the whispering moonlit haze.

 

The sleeping gas is unnoticeable in the fog, and as soon as the first two reds goes down, Saizou lunges from his position and strikes.

 

 _See you soon, brother_ , Suzukaze says, and Saizou steps quickly into the dark hallways, all quiet steel and poison.

 

 

*

 

 

“Another mission well done,” Ryouma tells him with a smile. They’re not in his usual office, instead looking out over Philippine smog and topography in some fancy restaurant. It’s still daylight out, and though Saizou is used to late nights and no sleep, the sunlight still makes his head ache. The tinted windows do little to alleviate this. “We went in for retrieval shortly after you sent us the data. Thank you again for your hard work.”

 

Saizou eyes Ryouma for a moment, then looks out the window to avoid that kind gaze. “Of course. I do as I am told.”

 

“You don’t need to dine with me if you’re tired.” Ryouma frowns. “I just thought it’d be nice since we head back shortly, but you don’t need to humor me otherwise.”

 

He is silent until the waitress finishes setting down the main course and leaves, refrains from prodding at the food to check for poison since it would be considered rude here. “I am here because I want to be.”

 

With a small toast, Ryouma grins again even as his eyes are serious. Very conversationally, lips hovering above his wineglass, he mentions: “You have a bruise on your jaw.”

 

Saizou almost flinches. He’d covered up the mark with some foundation, since his usual gear would draw unwanted attention in these spaces, but apparently not well enough. After all those lessons from Orochi on how to properly apply makeup, one would think he’d have mastered covering basic injuries.

 

“A careless error on my part.” He cuts through the meat carefully and hopes Ryouma won’t ask him if he has any more bruises. “I apologize.”

 

“Ah, well, you don’t need to apologize. If you hadn’t agreed to lunch with me, I may never have noticed. The lighting here is quite good for noticing things.”

 

“Was that your intention all along?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ryouma says, voice chiding even as he looks guilty. “It’s a bad habit of yours to hide things from me even when I ask you about them. Isn’t it my job to make sure you’re well and safe?”

 

Stubbornly, Saizou chews through the meat and does not reply. The meal is of high quality, but he’s still unused to these luxuries and sometimes finds the seasonings a bit strong for his taste. He glances at the wineglass to his left and reaches for the water instead, self-conscious under Ryouma’s stare.

 

“I’m glad it’s not a big injury, though. Did it hurt?”

 

“It’s part of my job,” Saizou grumps. “But I will make sure I do not make any mistakes next time.”

 

Ryouma smiles. Had they been in a more private setting, Saizou is sure he would’ve reached out to touch the bruise. As things are, Saizou turns his back to the sunlight and resumes picking his way through the food, head tilted downwards.

 

Serenely, Ryouma sips at the dark wine, deep red glinting like blood in the romantic light. When he swallows and lowers the glass, Saizou looks away, embarrassed.

 

 

*

 

 

It’s not often that Saizou has days off. More accurately put: he doesn’t take days off unless they are forced onto him. They often leave him too much time to think about unnecessary and unwanted things, and he prefers pushing his limits over dwelling on memories. Nightmares. Desires. It’s better to concentrate on his burning lungs and aching body than on the ghosts of his past.

 

That, and he also still doesn’t trust some of the agents that take his place in missions. If he had a choice, Saizou would request Kagerou to complete his missions in his stead, but she’s often already four or five countries away doing another assignment. Unfortunately for him, she always hangs those strange paintings of hers on his door as a way of saying that she’s away for the time being. They seriously creep him out.

 

“It’s your day off, brother,” Suzukaze says from the entrance to the training room. “The Head has said that if he needs to tie you up to keep you from moving around so much, he will.”

 

Saizou is somewhat glad that he’s hanging upside-down from the bars. Breathless from exertion, he grunts, “Training isn’t banned on days off.”

 

“For others, perhaps. But we seem to have all sorts of special rules for you.”

 

Reluctant, he swings down from the bars, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. “You’re going to ban me from _exercising_?”

 

Suzukaze shrugs, but Saizou knows his innocent façade covers some really twisted ideas. They’d grown up together, but his younger twin has a more subtle and lethal manner of hiding his innermost thoughts. “I’m not the one who gives you orders, brother. You only ever listen to one person here anyways.”

 

“I’m almost done,” Saizou lies and heads for the sparring machine.

 

“You’ve been in here for barely two hours,” Suzukaze says, moving towards the weights as he ties his hair back. “You’re often in here for much longer.”

 

Saizou starts to wrap the white bandages around his hands, looping around his fingers, then around his palm, over and over. Once he’s finished with his left hand, he begins wrapping his right. He can hear Suzukaze tinkering around with the heavier weights behind him. “Isn’t it a workday for you?”

 

“Sort of. My assignment isn’t until late evening.”

 

“Spar with me.”

 

Suzukaze sighs. “It’s like you haven’t been listening to me at all.”

 

“No contact,” Saizou bargains, since he doesn’t want to cause possible injury before his brother’s mission. “Afterwards, I’ll leave and find something—something less… strenuous to do.”

 

His brother relents, asking for some time for warm-ups and stretches. Saizou idly goes through motions, falling into a familiar rhythm of routines that he’d learned at a much younger age, when simple practice swords had still been too heavy in his hands. Now, as he and his twin exchange mock blows, they are able to form much more streamlined combat and retaliation.

 

“You’re thinking about other things,” his brother says as their pace slows to a stop. “Perhaps you really should rest.”

 

“I’m fine,” Saizou says bitterly, and stares remorsefully at the closed door once Suzukaze gently pushes him out of the room with an impish grin.

 

 

*

 

 

Saizou wakes with a start, eye darting around his surroundings before he realizes he’s in a safe location. He relaxes slightly before seeing Ryouma sitting at his desk, polishing his revolver, and tenses again. The only light on in the room is the lamp at the desk, and at its lowest settings, it sets only a small portion of the room awash with warm glow. Shadows are a sharp and distracting contrast over Ryouma’s tanned skin.

 

“You’re awake,” Ryouma says, noticing Saizou’s discomfort. “You weren’t asleep very long, I think.”

 

Glancing at the clock, Saizou is relieved to see that only ten minutes have passed since he’d come into Ryouma’s office. He’s still bothered by the fact he’d dozed, though. It’s late, almost four in the morning, and Saizou had just finished his mission less than an hour ago. He’s probably not looking so great with the occasional smear of red on his dark clothes, bloodied gloves sealed into an airtight bag to be burned later.

 

Even at this ungodly time, Ryouma looks well awake and calm. Saizou twitches at the clinking sounds of the revolver being put together. The slow sounds make him feel more nervous than he really should be, almost like the torturous drip of cold water onto his forehead. The noise brings back bad memories, and he’s not sure whether Ryouma is doing this on purpose or not.

 

“My apologies,” he says, standing up and blinking against the sudden vertigo. “I had no intention of falling asleep here. I’ll finish my report quickly and leave.”

 

“No need to rush, Saizou. Sit.”

 

Saizou sits back down, swallowing at the hard command.

 

“Good boy.” Ryouma smiles warmly, still cleaning the small bits of the revolver, and Saizou’s cheeks _burn_. He waits in agonized silence until Ryouma finishes putting his gun back together, holding it up to the low light to check for any smudges before setting it down. “You killed someone other than just the target tonight.”

 

“They were putting up a fight; had I taken the time to deal with them peacefully, I would have lost my opening.” He’s careful to keep his voice level. Ryouma is always kind to him, but can still wear the expression of a seasoned killer when he needs to. Saizou isn’t so inclined to be on the receiving end of it.

 

Ryouma hums, putting his revolver aside in one of the drawers and opting to toy with one of his expensive fountain pens. With how busy he is during the day, it’s a bit intimidating how he doesn’t seem tired at all. While Saizou can stay away for days on end, each passing night leaves him more restless and agitated. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” He turns his bright eyes on Saizou. “Were you?”

 

“No,” Saizou shakes his head, but Ryouma is already rounding the desk to approach him. “Really, sir, I’m fine.”

 

“There’s a lot of blood,” Ryouma says mildly, reaching out probably to wipe at the dried bloodstains on Saizou’s cheeks. “You’re sure none of it is yours?”

 

“No doubt.”

 

Sighing, Ryouma moves away and seats himself on the opposite chair, taking time to untie his hair. He pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses from beneath the small coffee table and crosses his legs, looks at Saizou expectantly. Even with most of the room darkened, Saizou still feels awfully naked. He wills the coming morning away; once the pale reach of dawn starts to reach in through the windows, he’ll really have no place to hide, and it’ll be harder to ignore Ryouma and his long, dark hair.

 

“I want you to drink with me,” Ryouma says, deftly uncorking the bottle with an opener. “And talk with me. I’m giving you the day off, okay? Maybe the next two.”

 

“What of my mission?”

 

“I’ll get Rinka to take care of it.”

 

Saizou isn’t really fond of Rinka since she tends to have a little less attention to detail than he’d like, but since the next assignment isn’t about stealth, he will accept her as his replacement. Still, he scowls at the prospect of drinking alcohol. Even with fine wine, he isn’t quite so keen on the taste, and Ryouma knows this. Poisons and other depressants and stimulants he’s trained resistances against, but alcohol of all things is something he’s known to stay away from.

 

“Kagerou told me you’ve been fitful in your sleep recently,” Ryouma says, slowly filling a glass with the wine. “You know how she’s an even lighter sleeper than you are. Is your room uncomfortable?”

 

“My quarters are more than sufficient.”

 

Ryouma gently sets a glass in front of Saizou and frowns. “Then, is there something you’re dissatisfied with? I can’t have you feeling below your best when you’re resting, you know.”

 

He sips hesitantly at the wine, and Ryouma chuckles at the face he makes. “It is nothing of importance. I’ll apologize to Kagerou for waking her.”

 

“Saizou,” Ryouma says. “Bad dreams again?”

 

He swills the wine around in the glass, reluctant to answer. His silence seems to be understood, however, since Ryouma makes a low noise, already reaching out to pull Saizou’s arm down. His palm is warm against Saizou’s forehead.

 

“I really shouldn’t have let you kill Kotarou.” Sitting back, Ryouma downs his glass of wine and pours another. “You’ve been very jumpy ever since coming back from that one trip to Northern Europe.”

 

“If my quality of work has been affected, I—”

 

“No, don’t apologize. Just drink.” Ryouma’s eyes sparkle as he leans forward, and in the near darkness, his teeth flash brightly like steel.

 

 

*

 

 

“Stop fidgeting, brother,” Suzukaze murmurs, and Saizou stills in his tracks, chastised. “This mission shouldn’t be difficult for us.”

 

“I know,” he says. But being underground reminds him of unpleasant memories, things that Suzukaze hasn’t experienced with their different training histories. Similar they may be, and although Suzukaze has gone through more isolation of them two, he hasn’t been tortured by enemies before. Saizou doesn’t wish it upon anyone, unless they happen to be ones with any remotely malicious intent towards Ryouma.

 

Even now, memories of rope burning into his skin haunt him. Suzukaze hasn’t asked him about the scars.

 

He fingers the small blade in his hand, stopping himself from a small game of toss and catch since the reflective metal might give their position away to the cameras. In their small headpieces, Asama lightheartedly calls out coordinates and the reds. There’s only one green, but it’s likely they will be dead from poisoning, and it’s not the goal to keep the green alive, anyways.

 

Knowing Suzukaze, though, he’ll do anything he can to save that person.

 

 _Have fun, boys_ , Asama says with a small cackle. _Try not to die; that’d be a waste of good men, y’know?_

 

Saizou ignores Asama’s chatter and Orochi’s mutterings as he surveys the enclosed grounds. Surrounding them are walls of cement, growing thicker as the chambers go deeper. Once they enter, they’ll be cut off from communication until they reach surface level again. They should be alright though, since Asama’s weirdly talented at jamming enemy signals and hacking into their systems, and Orochi is (unfortunately) talented at decrypting and reading into patterns.

 

_Three reds coming from your six o’clock. See ya later!_

 

He and Suzukaze nod, breathing quietly as footsteps grow closer. Nearly a kilometer underground as Saizou wields the cold steel in his hands, the world blackens behind them, exits glowing a deep and warning red.

 

 

*

 

 

Kagerou gifts him a strange-looking dreamcatcher some time later. It’s obvious she’s put a large amount of effort into it, and he hasn’t received much more than the usual work-related talk from her since they’d fallen out years ago.

  
“What’s this for?” he asks, holding it up to the light and grimacing to himself as it glints and clatters horrifyingly. Even though it’s not a painting, it still resembles something hellish and unkind. Even her flower arrangements look menacing; the last time they’d had an undercover job for a florist, Reina (of all people) had taken Kagerou’s place.

 

“The Head told me the reason you kept waking me up at night with your awful thrashing. The walls are thin,” she sniffs. “So I made you a dreamcatcher. These things catch nightmares, I’m told, so it should catch yours.”

 

“More like it’ll scare the nightmares away,” he finds himself saying, and shies away from Kagerou’s hard glare.

 

“Anyways,” she says, flipping her hair over one shoulder. She’s dressed in stealth gear, heading out for the mission Saizou had arranged earlier. “He wants to see you in his office. Tell him I’ll be back by five.”

 

Since the trek to his quarters takes a good ten minutes and it’s likely that Ryouma won’t want to wait, Saizou ends up taking the horrid dreamcatcher with him to the office. He knocks politely and only enters when Ryouma calls for him to enter. He feels a bit ridiculous holding the dreamcatcher in one hand, but Ryouma only raises an eyebrow at the strange object when he comes in.

 

“Kagerou’s quite thoughtful in her own right,” Ryouma notes amusedly. “It’s a dreamcatcher of some kind, isn’t it?”

 

“If one could call it that. It would give children bad dreams with just a glance.”

 

Ryouma laughs, smile bright. His red tie is loose, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone. Saizou tries his best not to stare, eye catching on the metallic glint of the golden watch whenever he looks away. He always tends to become more distracted at times like this. “Ah, I suppose it’s the thought that counts. How are you feeling though?”

 

Saizou opens his mouth to say he’s fine, but at Ryouma’s sharp look, he relents. “A bit tired. Nothing major.”

 

“Well, some of us will be going for the job in Venice. I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to relax while we’re there.”

 

“I’m here to work,” Saizou deadpans, and Ryouma grins.

 

“I know,” he beckons Saizou closer. “And I’m here to spoil you, aren’t I?”

 

He doesn’t answer straightaway, but Ryouma laughs all the same. The trip to Venice will be like the one to the Philippines, like the one to Beijing and all those other places Saizou has been to but never remembers much of. Nothing more than the fancy dinners and vague landscapes, really. Even though the Philippines mission had been only a month ago, he only remembers looking down at the smog from above, the headache he’d had, Ryouma’s fingers close to the aching bruise on his jaw.

 

“I can’t refuse your orders,” he says instead. In his hand, the dreamcatcher tinkles softly, untelling and eerie.  

 

 

*


End file.
